


Curfew

by ebbj9891



Series: In Quest Of Something [9]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Series, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebbj9891/pseuds/ebbj9891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the move to New York, Justin and Cynthia start to worry about the hours Brian is keeping at Kinnetik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curfew

_Hey sweetie. Brian's on his way home now - make sure he goes straight to bed? He's insisting on working tomorrow, but don't let him come in until the afternoon. That was the deal and don't let him tell you otherwise. Love Cyn xoxo_

It's well past midnight when I receive the text, which is a new record for both of them. Eight, nine, ten o'clock - I'm used to that. The last few nights they've been edging closer to eleven, which was worrisome but not a complete tragedy. But past midnight? That's pretty extreme, even for Brian and especially for poor Cynthia. 

I go downstairs and meet him as his cab rolls up. He practically slides out of it, the very picture of exhaustion. I go and grab his briefcase and wrap an arm around his waist. "Hello, handsome."

Brian mumbles something back that sounds vaguely like 'hello'. He must be really fucking tired, because he doesn't even try to make a move on me. I help him upstairs to the apartment silently, rubbing his back slowly and soothingly. 

There are nights when it's damn near impossible to get Brian to come to bed to sleep, but this is not one of them. There are no stubborn attempts to stay up and keep on working through the night. There aren't any lecherous advances. Without even a scrap of resistence, he makes a very tired beeline to the bedroom and collapses straight into it. I think he's asleep before his head even hits the pillow, and I couldn't be more relieved (although I do make a mental note to reschedule the lecherous advances for tomorrow morning).

As quietly as I can, I tiptoe over to him and gently ease his shoes off and loosen his tie. He murmurs and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. Tomorrow he'll probably kill me for letting him sleep in his suit, but all that matters right now is that he's asleep.

As I'm covering him with the duvet, I notice he's got his phone clutched in his hand. I manage to free it from his grasp and have to stop myself from laughing out loud - he's set the alarm to 6am. Like hell am I letting him wake up that early! I change it to 11am and join him in bed. He'll probably kill me for that too, but fuck it. I ease myself over to his side of the bed and curl up next to him, where I close my eyes and let the sound of him breathing lull me off to sleep.

*

By the time Brian's alarm goes, I've come up with the perfect plan to offset any of his murderous urges. I sit in bed next to him and wait for the  _beep beep beep_ of his alarm. He wakes on the fifth beep and silences the alarm, stretching with a satisfied groan. Then his eyes lock onto me and he smiles brightly.

"Good morning," he says, quite happily at first - but hen he seems to notice the light coming in through the bedroom windows and finishes darkly with a menacing look, " _Sunshine._ What the fuck time is it?"

No point delaying the inevitable - I 'fess up immediately and matter-of-factly: "It's 11. I changed your alarm."

He glares at me, and I just know he's plotting my demise. "I'm supposed to be at the office-"

" _Liar._ Cynthia said you're not due in until afternoon. She said the two of you had a deal."

He laughs bitterly. "You know, I think I might have to remind Cynthia that it's not in her job description to conspire with you. She's supposed to be my loyal accomplice, not yours."

"She _is_ your loyal accomplice. That's why she's trying to help you. You've been pushing yourself really hard lately and we're just trying to look out for you."

He grimaces and flops back down onto the mattress. Then he looks down and growls, "Why am I wearing my suit?"

"You fell asleep in it."

"And you let me?!"

"You were exhausted!"

Brian leaps out of bed and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Despite his sullen mood, I'm quite cheered - everything's actually going perfectly to plan. I could set my watch by Brian Kinney, I really could. I jump out of bed and get started on my plan.

Three minutes later, he comes stomping out of the bathroom in his robe with his precious suit bundled in his arms. I'm waiting and ready; I take the suit and promise him it will be drycleaned by Monday. Then I steer him back towards the bed, where his breakfast is waiting. Even though he's still scowling at me, it's clear the prospect of hot coffee and warm bagels has perked him up some. Brian slides into bed and lets me place the breakfast tray in his lap, but not before warning, "Don't ever let me sleep in my suit again. That was my-"

"Best Armani suit, I know," I kiss his forehead and smooth his hair back. "It'll be good as new by Monday. Now eat up. I want you good as new, too."

As I pour him a cup of coffee and a glass of grapefruit juice, I can see the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It's my firm belief that I can do better than that, though, so I start at his shoulder and pepper kisses from there, up his neck, and all along his jawline until I finally meet his mouth. By the time I do, he's grinning from ear to ear.

*

"Isn't this so much nicer than being at the office?"

Brian grunts into the pillow as I drizzle more oil down his back. It's some cherry scented and flavoured concoction that heats up, leaving everything looking and feeling and smelling heavenly. Daphne gave it to me as a pervy housewarming gift when Brian and I moved into our new place. I'll have to let her know it's going to good use; I think if she could see me now, straddling Brian's thighs and immersing him in it, she'd be pretty fucking proud of me.

After licking an errant drop of oil from my wrist (I have plans to lick the rest off of Brian later), I rub it in with long, smooth strokes, starting at his hips then gliding my slick hands all the way up to his neck. "This is how you _should_ be spending your Saturdays."

"This isn't any way to win new clients," he mumbles, then groans as I press my chest to his back and slide back and forth slowly.

"I don't know... you look pretty hot covered in oil."

" _Pretty_ hot?"

"Extremely," I correct myself, kissing his neck by way of apology. "You could win a  _lot_ of clients looking like this."

"I'll keep that in mind," he laughs, arching up into my touch as I knead his shoulders.

"You're so tense."

"Maybe you should massage me more often." He moans loudly as the heels of my hands roll firmly down his back, then adds with a shaky laugh, "You're really fucking good at it."

"Come home earlier and you've got yourself a deal."

"You're not suggesting a curfew, are you?" He sniffs disdainfully.

"I'm suggesting you go easier on yourself." I pour more oil into my hands and map a slippery path up and down his sides, in circles around his shoulder blades, and in one long, slow slick down his spine. I could very easily grow addicted to the noises he's making right now. "It means a lot to me that you're here with me, Bri. It would mean even more if you were well-rested and well-fed."

"And well-massaged, apparently."

"Yeah, that too... I'll take any excuse to get you all naked and oily."

He shudders with laughter underneath me. I grab the bottle of oil and empty out the last of it over his lower back, then get to work on eliciting more moans from him.

*

"You're sure you want to spend your Saturday like this?" Brian asks, frowning at me as he swipes his security pass in the elevator. He presses the button for the sixth floor, which is currently home to Kinnetik's Manhattan office. 

"For the millionth time -  _yes."_ I grab his hand and clasp it in mine. "You could use an extra set of hands, right?"

"Right," he says, sounding skeptical. 

"So put me to work. I want to help."

"It's going to be insanely fucking boring."

"I'm sure I'll survive."

The elevator doors open and Brian steps back to let me out first. Cynthia is waiting at reception, looking much dressier than either of us. She holds out two cups of coffee which we accept gladly. Brian plucks at her expensive looking blazer. "It's Saturday."

"And yet here we are at work," she smiles at him. "I wasn't aware that the dress code didn't apply."

"Next time let's make it a Casual Saturday," he leans in and kisses her on the cheek. "Thanks for coming in."

"Don't mention it." Cynthia turns her attention to me as Brian disappears into his office. "Justin, honey - please tell me you're staying."

"Of course. Just tell me where you want me."

*

Four hours of printing, photocopying, and filing later, and I'm tired but not nearly as bored as Brian predicted I would be. I'm much less worried about the hours he's been keeping now that I know what he's been slaving away on. The work he's doing is nothing short of brilliant.

Cynthia pops in and out with coffee, gossip, and more instructions. There's never a moment when her hands aren't full - she's always got two armfuls of something. Meanwhile, Brian's office door remains mysteriously closed. He doesn't come out and we don't go in. Cynthia confides that she could go in if she needed to, but that she prefers to leave him be.  _"He's in a world of his own,"_ she says admiringly, before darting off to find more things to do. The list seems endless.

Finally, just shy of six, she wanders into the art department I've just finished organising. She's not carrying anything and her blazer and heels have disappeared; she looks infinitely more relaxed. Cynthia rifles through the fridge in the corner and pulls out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She grins and explains, "We still have a shitload left over from the opening. It makes these long hours go down a lot easier."

She sits down next to me and props her feet up on the desk next to mine, carefully pouring each of us a glass. "I thought we should celebrate. To a job well done this afternoon, and to a job _very_ well done last night. Getting Brian to sleep for over ten hours is a huge accomplishment. Cheers, baby."

"It involved a lot of treachery and trickery, but I got the job done in the end." I clink my glass against hers. "Thanks for helping. I couldn't have done it without you."

We drink and I discover she's dead right - it  _does_ make the long hours go down a lot easier. If only Brian weren't holed up in his office;  I'm guessing he could use a glass... or six.

I bump my right foot against her left. "So how is he? I mean, he seems okay at home, but I'm worried about how he's going here."

"He is," she takes a sip of champagne, contemplating. "He is unlike anything I've ever seen. Brian's always been a shark, but I have never seen him this aggressively bloodthirsty. I mean that in a good way. He's focused and driven and he is absolutely _crushing_ it."

"So he's doing well?"

"He's doing brilliantly," Cynthia assures me. "Don't let his obsessive behaviour fool you. Kinnetik is thriving back in Pittsburgh and we're doing better than expected here so far, with lots to look forward to. I know it's scary to see him pushing himself so hard, but he's okay. He's better than okay. He's destined for greatness here, I just know it. Don't you worry yourself."

Suddenly, Brian clears his throat from across the room. "Are you two gossiping about me again?" 

He strolls over and I hand him my glass so he can take a swig. Brian smiles appreciatively and downs about half the glass in one go. He slips his hand underneath the collar of my shirt, stroking the back of my neck gently. 

"I'm sorry - I'm almost speechless. Did you actually just emerge from your lair voluntarily?" Cynthia mock gasps. "If only I had some pearls to clutch."

"I'll buy you some," Brian says, kissing her on the cheek. "Or you can go buy some and give me the receipt so I can reimburse you. Call it a business expense."

"How romantic," Cynthia drawls, shaking her head at him. She waves her champagne glass at me. "Is he like this with you?"

I smirk and tell her, "I'm not allowed to divulge any information about Brian's romantic gestures. We have a strict gag rule in place to prevent people from finding out what a sweetheart he is."

Cynthia bursts out laughing. Brian narrows his eyes at me.

"That was a clear violation, Sunshine. I'll have to punish you."

"I'll look forward to it," I say, grinning at him.

He smirks at me, then asks us both, "How does dinner sound? I'd kill for a steak."

"It's only six," Cynthia says slowly, checking and rechecking her watch. 

"Aren't you two hungry yet? We've been here for hours."

Cynthia and I glance at each other uncertainly. 

"I mean, sure," I say, "But we thought you'd want to keep working for a while."

"Fuck it," Brian shrugs. "I've done enough for today. There are better ways to spend a Saturday night."

"Well, I'm not going to argue with that," laughs Cynthia. "Let's go get dinner."

"Good." He offers a hand to each of us and helps us both up. "Dinner it is."

*

After dinner, Brian hails Cynthia a cab and helps her into it. Before the driver leaves, Brian raps on the window and Cynthia rolls it down. I watch as he says something to her and touches her shoulder. Cynthia beckons him closer and kisses his cheek. They share a smile, and she waves to me. Brian joins me as the cab pulls away. "I will have to buy her those pearls, won't I?"

"You do owe her," I say, as we begin walking home. It's a perfect night for it - nice and cool, and late enough that the crowds have thinned out. "Then again, she was saying how she owes you."

"For what?"

"I believe she used the words 'best boss ever'. You should ask her about it, though. I know she's pretty fucking grateful that she gets to work for you, though... even if you do work her pretty hard." I loop my arm through his as we cross the street. "Still, you don't work her even nearly as hard as you work yourself."

"It's all part of the plan," he says, imbuing those words with great significance. He's never actually specified what this plan entails, only that it's incredibly important that it succeed. If the work I saw today is anything to go by, he doesn't have anything to worry about. I believe Cynthia completely - Brian's destined for greatness.

"So what were you saying this morning about a curfew?"

"Huh? Oh, right." It takes a moment for what he's said to register since I'm kind of staggered he's bringing it up voluntarily. He actually seems like he might be open to it. Tentatively, I ask, "Don't you think it might be a good idea?"

Brian shrugs. "It's not a terrible one."

We stop at 42nd, waiting for the traffic to let up so we can cross. I fold my arms over my chest and propose, "How does 9pm sound?"

He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. 11.30 and not a minute sooner."

"As if," I laugh, then counter, "10pm."

"10.30 and I work weekends."

"10.15 and 'working weekends' is limited to Saturday afternoons. Sundays you have off with me. And we renegotiate this in a month's time, with a clear aim to make the curfew earlier." I stare him down and say firmly, "That's my final offer. Take it or... take it. Those are your only options."

He smirks, as though he's amused or impressed. Maybe both. Brian leans in close and murmurs, "You're going to have to sweeten the pot, Sunshine."

I move in, closing almost all of the distance between us. Brian's gaze gravitates hungrily to my mouth. I lick my lips, thrilled when this sets off a dark, lustful gleam in his eyes. "How about an all-access pass to my massages?"

"Any time I want one?"

"Any time you want one," I promise. "Deal?"

"Deal."

Brian envelops my hand in his and we shake on it. Then he tugs me so we're crushed against each other and kisses me. I could lose myself in it, it's so fucking good.

The street is quieter when we untangle from each other, but neither of us moves to continue the walk home. Brian anchors his hands on my hips and kisses my forehead; once, twice, thrice, gentler every time. I slip my hands inside his coat and wind my arms around him. I feel him press his nose to the top of my head; he breathes in deep, then exhales contentedly. 

It occurs to me that the city keeps right on going, thrumming around us in a mess of light and sound and motion. We, on the other hand, are almost completely still but for the patterns I'm idly tracing on his back and the way our chests rise and fall, meeting in the middle to swell together. I could stay like this all night. I could stay like this forever.

Fuck the curfew - tonight, let's stay up late, let's stay up all night, just like this. There are some things worth losing sleep over.


End file.
